The Push And The Pull
by Skylarcat
Summary: There has always been this push and pull that prevented Oscar and Angie from taking that step to the next level in their relationship, but with Angie ready to flee again, Oscar's not letting her go without a fight.


**Title: **The Push And The Pull  
**Author: **Skylarcat  
**Classification: **Venn One-Shot  
**Rating: **L for LOVE (There's a kiss, so too young to see that, close your eyes)  
**Feedback: **To quote Britney Spears, 'Gimme gimme…more'  
**Summary: **There has always been this push and pull that prevented Oscar and Angie from taking that step to the next level in their relationship, but with Angie ready to flee again, Oscar's not letting her go without a fight.  
**Note: **Flynn and Vega are characters that do not belong to me. Yes, I have used them without permission, for that I am not sorry. Someone had to. Someone has to help these two move it along and to become the powerhouse known as VENN. LETS GO PEOPLE. Oh…where was I, oh yes, I have used them without permission and will return them safe from harm, but completely in love.

**...**

He knew of moments, of pockets of infinite time that stretched forth, offering boundless opportunities of free choice. A single decision to change the course of an entire life, he's dreamt of moments like this, where his charted journey goes off the map, where he goes against the grind, does something for his self, simply because he wanted too. And God help him, he wanted her.

And here it was, the moment.

In this tiny room, where right outside the traffic blared, horns honked, tires squealed. The world continued to go on, but he heard none of it, the only sound, the beating of their hearts like thunder booming loudly in his ears. And this is where it began; the push, the pull, the beginning, and the end.

She never looked more radiant as she did then, against the pale drop of the moon. Her skin almost ivory; cream with the occasionally interruption of a speck of freckles, that fell in loose patches across her cheeks and along her collarbones and around the blades of her shoulders. When he thought she wasn't watching he often tried to count them, memorized by the flawless imperfections.

And now his fingers longed to reach out to touch her, to dance along her skin, to feel her pressed against the calluses of his working hands. But she stood in front of him with her shoulders squared; her back arched and her posture defensive. Her eyes were wild like a caged animal's, darting feverishly around the room, for what he imagined was an escape route. But he wasn't about to allow her to escape this time, to leave him once more broken and a shadow of the man that he used to be. No, this time they would confront this.

And before he could change his mind or cast doubt on what he was about to do, he reached out gripping her forearms, his large fingers wrapping tightly around her tiny wrists. She jerked roughly, attempting to free herself of his hold, but his grip was unrelenting, she wasn't going anywhere. She sighed heavily, realizing she was trapped and stared vacantly past his shoulders, drawn to some invisible spot on the wall behind him.

"Angie," he spoke her name softly, surprised it came out as clear as it did and not some incoherent rambling. He swallowed sharply; collecting whatever courage remained, and searched for the right words to say. He knew whatever words he chose would have to break through her barrier, to destruct every obstacle that she could conceive to block him; he had to render her defenseless. So he decided on the truth.

"It's scary, I know. Believe me; I know." He inhaled sharply, taking in what little oxygen he could, unsure where he was going with this, but knowing there would be no turning back now. His fingers circled along the lines in her hands, locating there all the promises that he wanted to offer, wanted to keep, written there along her palms. He intertwined his fingers with hers, lacing their hands together, holding them tightly in the space that separated their bodies. When he spoke again, his voice came out shaky, more raspy and determined. "I'm just a man that's terrified that he's in love with a woman, who also happens to be terrified. What if we stopped being terrified and tried being happy," he paused, lifting his hand beneath her chin and tilting upward, forcing her to look at him. "Together," he added softly, locking his eyes with hers.

"We can't…"

"Why not?" He interrupted, cutting her off in midsentence and taking a step closer, invading her personal space. She attempted to take a step back, to escape his proximity, but he released her hands and moved his gripped to her waist, pinning her in place. He could feel her body tremble beneath his touch and wondered if his own body mimicked a similar response.

She stared at him intensely; her blue eyes dilated and wide, with a look of fear mixed with remorse. He realized then just how fragile she was, even if she would never admit it, pretend not to be and do everything in her power to never show it, she was. Like glass; and he knew he had to approach her delicately. If he were to hold her too tightly, she would break and if he held too loosely, she would slip once more through his fingers. And he knew, without any doubt, if he were to lose her again, he wouldn't survive it. He barely survived the last time, not that she knew that. But he was hanging by a thread here and she held the other end of it.

He knew her better than she knew herself. He knew she needed her freedom, needed the light and the darkness to bleed through her crevices. She needed to be the one in control, the one to decide. He couldn't push or pull her on this, or she would snap like a rubber band, flee from him, to once again build that wall up to keep him out. Out of reflex, he tightened his hold on her waist, causing her to inhale sharply as her eyes searched his face, stripping him bare, right down to his soul. It was he that was supposed to render her defenseless, but somehow she had managed to turn the tables and now it was him who was left vulnerable.

He stared back at her, seeing the reflection of his-self shining through her eyes, seeing the man that he wanted to be, seeing all the things that he wanted to give her, including his heart. He held his breath, waiting for her to respond. If she wanted the world then he would give her the world.

Her lips trembled slightly when she moved them to speak, tripping over the words that fought to come out. "We can't," she managed slightly, dropping her eyes from his. It came out so softly that he barely heard her, knowing her protest was weak, that she was just working her way through the motions. "Because," she continued, lifting her blue eyes to meet his once more. "I don't even know who I am anymore." A sorrow laugh escaped from the back of her throat, tilting her head back and wiping her fingers over her eyes, willing the tears away. "I'm a mess," she admitted ruefully. "You don't need a mess, Vega."

In an instant, he pulled her flush against him, moving his hands up her back, where they came to rest tightly on her shoulder blades, pinning her against him. "I need you," he whispered in the mass of blonde curls that surrounded her face. "I need you," he repeated, tightening his hold around her petite frame.

Her arms interlocked around his neck as she laid her head against his chest. The action caused his heart to beat more rapidly and somehow, at the same time, stilling it. She lowered a hand passed his collar, where it bunched the white fabric in her tiny fist, gripping the shirt tightly as she allowed herself to cry.

He tightened his arms around her, bringing a hand up to stroke her hair softly, and planted a kiss against her forehead. The last of her resolve was dispersing, fading away in the darkness like the occasional headlights that passed outside his window. "I let you down," she mumbled against his neck, her breath warm on his skin. "With the whole Mark situation; I let you down. You didn't deserve that."

He didn't know what to say to that, because in all honesty, she was right. He didn't deserve it, but she had reacted in her familiar response, her attempt to protect herself, in her false perceptions make things right. He just ended up being collateral damage, the unintentional target of her hurt and pain. The thing is, he didn't mind that, if it meant she was safe from harm, but what hurt him the most was her deserting him, abandoning him when he needed her the most.

He had shot and killed Slater in effort to protect her and he had been left reeling from the consequences of taking another man's life, no matter the justification behind it, one doesn't simply come back from that unscathed. He needed her to help guide him back, back to the light, back to the living, but she had left him to fight her own demons. And he took the long way round, endless nights of bourbon and solitude, remainders of things that he never told her, embers of words he meant to say flickering in his fireplace as he dozed off in a drunken slumber. He had managed to crawl his way back from that, but it wasn't easy. He forgave her because there was nothing to forgive. There was nothing she could ever do that would cause him to love her any less.

Almost as though she could sense his thoughts, he could feel her tense under his hold. She pressed her hands firmly against his chest, pushing herself away from his embrace. "Vega, you make me want to be a better person. When I'm with you I am a better person, but it's not enough." She took a step back, pushing his arms away from her. "I'm not enough. I'll never be enough," her voice faltered, dropping off at the end, returning the room to silence. She was going to run, she had the look, the one she wore the last time she said goodbye. He reached for her, but she evaded his grip, moving further away from him. "I'm not good for you." Her statement hung in the air around them, loud and neon-blinding. For her, there was nothing else to say as she turned on her heels and headed towards his door, but to him, they still had unfinished business and before she could even get the door open, he had her turned around and facing him.

"You don't get to do this again," he informed her, his words rushed, hinging on desperation. "You said you didn't want to hurt me. Then prove it. Don't hurt me. Stay."

Her body relaxed against the doorframe as she stared at him, bringing a hand up to rest in the cove of his neck, her fingers soft against his skin. His name was the only thing she managed to say, allowing him to step into her, folding his body into hers. "No one's perfect, Angie," he said, brushing his forehead to hers. "We're going to disappoint each other. That's what people do, they make mistakes; they let each other down. But when you love someone you forgive them. You accept their good with their bad. You fight for them because they're worth it. And Angie, you're worth it. I'll fight for you every damn time, because it's you that I want."

She gave him a sad smile as she ran her fingers through his hair. "That's what scares me," she said, her eyes glancing back and forth from his eyes to his lips. She ran her thumb across his bottom lip. "To be loved so completely."

Without thinking, he moved forward, brushing his lips over hers. To his surprise, she kissed him back; parting her lips to deepen the kiss. Her fingers made their way into the ends of his hair, where they tugged him closer to her. He sighed against her mouth, cussing the need for oxygen as they parted, she still held tightly onto him. "We can't," she whispered, but didn't put up any resistance or try to move from him.

"We can," he countered, kissing her again. She pushed him back, but only slightly. "You need to let me go. You have to, because I can't resist or fight this anymore."

"Then don't," he simply said. "You don't have to fight this. Angie, you can push me away all you want. Hell; throw shards of glass in front of you, light a ring of fire to surround you. The thing is… I'm not going anywhere. Besides, what's a few cuts and scrapes and burns when the end prize is you. Seems worth it to me. Surrender, Angie. We can do this, I promise you."

He couldn't stand one more second away from her, so he moved forward and kissed her hard. She fell back against the door, but it seemed to be the only invitation she needed, for she quickly brought her hands up, wrapping them around his collar and pulling him into her. She returned the kiss, parting her mouth, and taking him in more fully. He felt it then, the last remaining brick of her wall crashing down, giving herself over to him completely. And in the end, there was no push or pull, just an acceptance, a willingness to love and to be loved fully in return.

...

End.


End file.
